


Mau

by detergent



Series: Two Fires [4]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Gratuitous Orc Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Melkor Wuvs Sauron, Original Character(s), kitties!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:56:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detergent/pseuds/detergent
Summary: Melkor sends his creation Iármírië into battle against the Eldar to impress his lover, Sauron.Pleased with her performance, Sauron allows her to take a trophy.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Two Fires [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807453
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Mau

**Author's Note:**

> Banner made for me by Verhalen (Jan, 2021)

"You!" Iármírië had shouted in a tongue all Eldar were sure to understand above the din, singling out one of the Eldar's champions who had mowed through the orcs and undead like the sharpest knife parts flesh.

His head turned, she could see that he heard her, the crystal-studded wings of his visor catching the light from the half-obscured sun above, sending out streamers of piercing, rainbow-dazzled light. His growl of wrath mixed with the other battle sounds but she heard it and was delighted.

"You!" She howled again. "I'll wear your blood, elf! I'll wear your blood, weave a cloak from your mane. I'll eat your fine horse... I'll eat your heart," she goaded from beneath her black half-mask.

"Filthy bitch," he gnashed, and she grinned, readying herself for his charge. His golden steed reared; he reigned it in and launched himself at her.

He was beautiful in his fury and he died beautifully. She had left herself seemingly open and as he thundered down on her, she threw herself down and dodged his mount. If he wanted her, he would have to work harder. He turned his powerful steed, believing he may have trampled her down. She waited until she could feel the stallion's hooves on the ground, nearing. She rolled and came up under the horse's neck, grabbed its beribboned bridle and yanked with all her might, causing the horse to shy violently. It dropped a shoulder and, unable to compensate for the sudden lunge, the warrior slid sideways in his seat and was forced to give up his position of advantage, kicked himself gracelessly away from his horse. She launched herself at him before he met the ground. He got a hand to her neck and gripped hard to crush her throat. She pulled him down hard on her and a hot torrent of blood rushed over her hand as her dagger slipped between his breastplate and gorget. He gasped and a fine spray of blood painted her exposed face.

He had been so beautiful. She nearly regretted her deed.

She heaved the heavily-armoured body off of her. His blood, so red, practically glowed, picking out the engravings on his gorget.

She called her mount to her.

-

Until the battle chaos had subsided into the screams and moans of survivors, the sounds of the undead consuming flesh, and the orcs looting, Iármírië had nearly forgotten that the Dark Lord had sent her to this place to take it so Sauron could watch her fight. He had aided the battle once or twice with his sorcery when he could no longer restrain himself from killing but for the most part, he had stayed on his mount at a safe distance, watching her take out warriors and the occasional archer. Blood and muck covered her from head to toe. He reigned his horse up beside her, bringing his psychic stink with him; she smelled it over the scent of blood, the undead, and loosened bowels of the battlefield.

"I can see why my darling created you," he complimented, surveying the carnage. They were on the outskirts of a settlement that had been half-razed during battle. She gave him a half bow from the saddle. "Let us see what we have won," he commanded, leading her past a group of captives being held at spearpoint by a group of orcs. He surveyed the beautiful dwellings with their bright coloured walls, flower gardens smashed into the dirt by many feet. They passed many corpses. She was used to corpses but when her sight rested on that of a mother, struck in the neck by a sword guarding her fallen little one, Iármírië felt strangely sad. She had been having these attacks of frivolous feelings ever since she had come of age and she didn't know what to do with them. They reminded her of Niquissë. Niquissë would have put herself between a blade and Iármírië... but she had been dead for forty years and more. She thought of Niquissë and bit her tongue until she had control of her weakness. She followed Sauron and did as he bade.

"Does your sire allow you to keep any trophies of war?" Sauron's voice came to her as they waded through a mass of undead abominations. She was accustomed to the awful noises they made while sating themselves on bodies that would later be raised to add to their number. Today the sound made her teeth hurt. Sauron had commanded her down from her mount several times now to take jewels from bodies, rings from fingers, trinkets from corpses that he took a fancy to and wanted for himself.

"No lord, winning the battles for him is enough for me," she said. Sometimes something stunning had caught her eye but she never took anything for herself, Melkor would know. All she wanted was for him to tell her that she had done well. Sometimes he gave her some spare words of praise and those words fed her and made her feel all of her training was worth it- for a while.

"A victory such as today's deserves _some_ commemoration," he said, thoughtfully. "You may take one item of your choice from the battleground, provided it is nothing I would want."

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. What I want is whatever possessed the mother of that child to guard her so, she thought instantly and immediately stopped the thought. Niquissë. No. The Eldar were to be disdained. She resisted the urge to knock the thoughts out of her head with her fist. She rode with the vile one for a few moments more, looking for a likely trophy. Then she saw four orcs chasing a puff of orange and heard a tiny, pitiful noise. The orange fluff was some sort of animal that the Eldar kept, probably for companionship. The tiny noise broke something inside her. Niquissë. She wanted the orange fluffy thing.

"You. Will. Stop." She thundered at the orcs.

Three continued to give chase to the orange blot, heedless of her command. Only one stopped and cowered in place. Her hand dipped into her thigh guard and came out with a knife that she threw with all of her might at one of the disobedient filth. The blade caught it in the back of the head and the corpse stumbled, running on a pace before falling. Its companions stopped in their tracks and their prey ducked under some rubbish. She swung a boot over her horse's head and dismounted, bidding the horse to stay. The two disobedient living orcs cowered as she approached. One reached out and tried to touch her boot in repentance.

"Return to the main army and don't look back for a moment or I will flay your disobedient hides off of your worthless bodies," she growled at them before stepping a boot onto the corpse's head and wrenching her blade from its skull. The orcs fled. She approached the pile of rubbish the fluffy animal had crawled beneath for protection and squatted a few feet away. She wiped the blade on her cloak and sheathed it.

"I won't hurt you," she said to the animal under the boards and cast-off clothing, feeling silly. Despite that, she wanted to touch the beast and make sure it was all right. Its fur was a beautiful colour, even streaked with muck and it was a very small thing, probably a baby whatever it was.

"Please come out," she said, making her voice high and soft. "I won't allow anyone to harm you if you come out to see me," she told the pile. She took off a glove and reached into her pouch where she had kept the remains of her breakfast- a few thick pieces of bacon and a piece of cheese. She took out some bacon and dangled it before the rubbish pile. After a few quiet moments, she saw a pink nose and white whiskers appear to test the air. The fluffball scented the bacon and peeked its head out.

"This is for you," she told it. It put one paw out, then another, then cautiously approached her. She put the bacon on the ground and waited. The fluffy animal cautiously approached the bacon and began to lick it.

"What are you? Do you have a name?" she inquired gently.

The little blue-eyed thing looked up at her and answered: "Meow," in the sweetest high-pitched squeak.

"You are a mau or your name is Mau?" she asked.

"Meow," it agreed and sat down and began to worry at the bacon once more.

"Iármírië!" Sauron called from far into the settlement. He hadn't even stopped for her, probably hadn't even noticed the mau, the orcs, or any of it.

At the sound of his voice, the mau seemed to grow in size. It arched its back and made a hissing, spitting sound.

"I agree," she told it. "I don't like him either. He makes me uneasy and he smells like death," she told the little beast. Her voice seemed to calm it and it sat daintily on its tiny paws. "Will you come with me?" she asked it. She heard a small, faint rumbling begin to emanate from the beast. It blinked slowly at her. The rumbling felt very soothing, like a caress.

"Come on then," she lifted it by its middle and picked up the bacon. She lapped part of her cloak into a pouch and secured it with one of her weapon straps, creating a nest for her prize. Her mount waited patiently where she had left it and she swung up into the saddle. Glass crunched beneath her horse's hooves as she walked him to meet Sauron.

"What do you have there?" he inquired, having spotted colour on her other than the red of her hair or blood or the black of her garments.

"This is my prize: It's a mau," she declared, reaching into the nest she had made and gently stroking the animal's forehead.

Sauron stared at her. All of the swords and rich garments, slaves, horses, and priceless things she could have chosen, she took this.

"They call that a cat," he said, his cultured tones unable to fully disguise the disdain he felt for her choice of prize. "Or rather, it is a young cat, they call it a kitten."

"I call it Mau," she told him, uncaring for his opinion.

When they reached the stronghold, Iármírië entered the throne room to pay her respects to her sire. He was seated majestically on his throne of black iron, arrayed in costly silks and jewels, his arms resting confidently on the rests at either side of him. Again, over his hair, he wore the fabric of brilliants he had ordered her to craft for him from plunder taken from the Eldar. She placed a hand over Mau in his pouch on her left chest and gave the Dark Lord a proper obeisance. As she did so, Sauron swept in past her to ascend the dais, where his lover made so much of him that she was forced to remain to kneel until she was acknowledged.

"While I knew you would be safe, I am relieved just the same," she heard her sire address his lover, his voice tinged with his relief. "Did you have a good time? Did my creation live up to the stories I've told you?"

Sauron took both of Melkor's hands, bringing him off of his throne and the Dark Lord allowed him to dance him in a circle. "It was memorable!" He complimented, almost giggling. "How did you create such a weapon? You are a marvel!" He rose on tiptoe and planted a kiss on Melkor's cheek. "It was beautiful. Such carnage! I was so impressed that I allowed her to take a prize."

"Oh? What did she take? Ingots, I'm assuming."

"Oh no, nothing so grand. Ask her: She has not allowed it to leave her side since she found it."

"Iármírië," Melkor's gaze finally fell upon her.

"Yes, sire?"

"Sauron tells me he permitted you a prize from the battle. What did you take? Show it to me. Now."

"Of course, sire," she stood and gently moved the cloth of Mau's pouch so he was visible. The kitten gave a low growl, its ears flattening against its head when Melkor drew near. Thankfully, he laughed at this.

"You took a kitten? Fine, fine. You may keep it. You should have taken mithril or jewels, silks, I even would have permitted you your personal Eldar slave, had you wished it since my Belovéd granted you the favour."

"Thank you, great lord," she snuggled the kitten back into his pouch, arranging the cloth so he could no longer see the two men. The growling stopped. She felt Mau situate himself more comfortably, his little white paws peeping out of her black cloak.

"Did you thank my Beloved?" His eyes were back on Sauron. "No matter, you should thank him again in my presence so I know you are grateful for his largesse."

As she wanted to keep Mau very much, Iármírië steadied him with her hand and gave Sauron a bow.

"I am truly grateful for your kindness in allowing me this gift, lord," she said, her eyes on the air above Sauron's head so she wouldn't have to look at his contrived benign expression. She did not care for the way he looked at her like he wanted to make some sort of perverse feast of her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from curling her lip in disgust at the thought.

"You are very welcome," his voice was a saccharine drawl of perfumed oil.

She stood on the cold flags while Sauron related the battle to his lover who seemed to enjoy Sauron's nominal part in the fighting even more than the victory she had brought him. Her sire did not even look in her direction after she had thanked Sauron as he had commanded. Certainly, Melkor was pleased they had captured so many captives and had humiliated the Eldar but he seemed to be giving Sauron all of the credit for their defeat.

Finally, when his lover had tired of standing to tell his tale, Melkor had permitted him to seat himself in his lap and, to her gratitude, he finally dismissed his creation to her private chambers.

She passed through the kitchen and acquired a small dish of fowl in broth and took it to her rooms. This she put upon her bed and placed Mau before it. The little creature wound its way around her hand as if he was thanking her for the food and then after she bent and delicately placed a kiss upon his forehead the way she'd seen her sire do to his love, and as she so faintly recalled, Niquissë kissing her forehead when she was very small, he began to eat. She smiled at him. A servant appeared in her doorway to help her out of her armour and other clothes. After her performance of gratitude to Sauron for her sire's pleasure, she was not in any mood to have strange hands touch her.

She hissed at the woman as Mau had hissed at Sauron. "Go away. You are not needed." The servant started as if she'd been slapped and disappeared, closing the door.

She unbuckled and unlaced herself, put her dirty garments in a basket by her bed- She'd attend to them herself later. She hung her armour and swords on the stick mannequin and put her knives in the small chest she kept for such things. Then, she went into the bathing chamber and opened the hot tap into the enormous basin and began to soak in the near-scalding water. She felt every cut and bruise she had taken but she scrubbed well nonetheless. She tore the braids out of her long, red hair and scrubbed the battle out of it. Then she leaned her head back against the obsidian and pensively rolled visions of the mother and child from the settlement around in her mind. Niquissë would have done the same for her, she thought, but she was gone. Melkor had forced captives to teach her how to fight and when she exceeded them, he had forced her to kill them, even if she had liked them.

A little splash interrupted her dark thoughts and she found Mau poised on the lip of the bath dabbling a white paw in the bathwater. Filth still streaked his orange striped fur but he looked so sweet, playing with the water. "I'd kill for you," she thought, looking at the kitten. The thought sobered her. She hoped this wasn't a weakness that the captives or others could exploit. Well... she'd just have to kill them then, she decided. Because Mau belonged to her; no one, absolutely no one would get even the barest chance at harming him.

"Do you take baths?" she asked the kitten, lifting a hand out of the water, dripping water onto him. The kitten looked surprised but didn't seem to mind, so she lifted him and put him on her chest above her breasts where the water lapped the pink pads of his paws. He laid down and began his pleasant rumble.

"I would say that is a yes," she said to him. Taking up her cake of soap, she lathered her hands and began to wash his fur while he stretched and seemed to believe he was getting extra petting.

"You are very good," she told him after his fur was clean. She held him with one hand against her and got to her feet, then put him on a towel on the floor. She stepped out and lifted another towel from its peg, attending to Mau first before towelling off herself. He followed her back into her room and scaled her coverlet to sit on her bed; he had emptied the dish of fowl and broth so she set it outside the door for the servants to collect. Iármírië opened the chest at the foot of her bed, found a set of trousers and a shirt for sleeping and slipped them on. Then she methodically cleaned every piece of gear she'd taken into battle and rewashed her hands. Mau observed the entire process from one of her pillows.

"You look as tired as I feel," she told him when he opened his mouth, showing tiny pearl-needle teeth and a curling pink tongue in a big yawn. She stretched. All of her gear was now pristine; she could finally go to bed. She turned down the covers and laid down, pulling them up to her chin. She spoke a word to the glowing orbs that lit the room and they dimmed until the room became dark. She felt Mau crawl over her pillow until she felt his face against her cheek. Tears welled up and she nuzzled her new companion.

"Good night, Mau-Mau. Good sleep and pleasant dreams."


End file.
